


It Could Be The Wine Too

by IBoatedHere



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Drinking, First Time, Flashbacks, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 18:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6163256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBoatedHere/pseuds/IBoatedHere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben and Caleb wake up in bed together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Could Be The Wine Too

“What are you doing in my bed?” 

Caleb blinks awake. The bed is warm and soft. He can't remember the last time he was this comfortable. It was before the war and then some. 

He blinks a few more times. Sleep lingers and then he's looking into the sun coming through the window, dust floating in the beams. 

Ben's a foot in front of him. Hair loose and golden in the light and splaying out across his pillow. His hands are folded beneath his head and his pale (so pale, even in the summer heat he's rarely out of uniform) shoulder is sticking out from the soft, cotton sheet. 

“What are you doing here?” He repeats, voice thick and rough with sleep. Caleb closes his eyes against it, he wants to move closer and slip back under. They both deserve more rest. 

“You don't remember?”

Ben shuts his eyes, squeezes them tight and tries to piece things back together. It's only flashes. Music and dancing and round after round of ale. Caleb's knee pressed against his under a table. His hips pressed tight against Caleb's whose back was pressed to the door. 

When Ben opens his eyes Caleb staring at him, closer than before; warm brown eyes and warm tanned skin, freckles dotted across his shoulder and collarbone. He thinks he remembers pressing his mouth to each one. 

“No. Not everything. Almost nothing.” Not enough. 

_” Caleb smiles, soft and gentle. “Do I have a story for you.”_

*****

Washington gave them leave. 

Townsend has been supplying them a steady stream of reliable and useful information. In his last letter he wrote that a British officer seemed suspicious. He asked for a few weeks without correspondence, until things died down or the officer left for a new post.

So Washington sent them on their way. They found their way to a Tavern for dinner and a seemingly endless supply of alcohol. 

To Caleb's surprise Ben's been dancing with different women for most of the night. 

He'd come back to the table, take a gulp of ale, and then be off again with another young lady. 

It's the uniform. It's Ben's boyish good looks. It's his manners. 

It's sweltering inside the tavern. There's no breeze coming in through the windows and Ben's stripped down to his waistcoat with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows.

Caleb thinks it's that too. 

The ladies brush their hands against the bare skin of his arms as they dance. 

Caleb knows he can't look away.

Ben's always so buttoned up. So proper. He'd die if Washington ever saw him with a button out of order. 

“The Major must have a girl waiting for him at home.”

Caleb didn't even hear Lieutenant Richards sit down next to him. “He's the envy of every man in the room.”

Richards is a good man. He follows orders and respects Ben. Caleb's caught him rolling his eyes whenever General Lee spoke. 

“There's no girl.”

Caleb would know. 

“Oh? I find that hard to believe.”

“From Yale to the war. He didn't have time.”

“Quite a prospect.” 

“Should I tell him you're interested?” Caleb jokes. Richards laughs.

“I'm strong enough to admit that if I were a woman I'd see his appeal. But as a man I'm damn jealous. He certainly does have his pick for tonight.” 

Caleb hasn't given that a thought. He's been stuck on his exposed skin and the flush on his cheeks and neck, how it disappears beneath his collar. 

“If I remember correctly you have a wife at home.”

“It's war Brewster. She understand. Do you think all of these women are single? I'm sure most of them have husbands fighting somewhere. Some of them are probably British. War changes people. Plus, what she doesn't know…” He grins and raises his mug to Caleb. 

He focuses back on Ben. He's kissing the hand of a beautiful blonde. She's giggling and pulling at his hand as she pulls her back, whispering in his ear before letting go of him altogether. 

Caleb watches Ben as Ben watches her go. 

He returns to the table, lightheaded and happy and Caleb's heart swells. 

“Major.”

“Richards.” Ben nods and takes a drink. 

“Brewster and I were just talking about how popular you are.”

“Oh.” Ben flushes red and cuts a quick glance to Caleb. 

“He used all his words on those far more beautiful than us,” Richards elbows Caleb. “Ah, let's see if he can find some.”

A petite redhead approaches the table, asking him for a dance. Ben sighs, smiles, and Caleb puts his hand on his arm. 

“I think our Major needs to rest his feet. But Lieutenant Richards here was just admiring you.”

Richards holds out one arm and claps Caleb on the back with the other. 

Once they're out of earshot he smiles at him and shifts in his seat, pressing their knees together. 

“Thank you.”

“You're too polite. You're allowed to decline.”

“I didn't want to be rude.”

“There are plenty of men here, I promise no woman will be left unattended.” 

He takes another drink then smiles as it's filled by the owner. 

“That last woman was certainly something.”

Ben's eyebrows knit together. “Is it terrible that I don't remember her name?”

“Are you seeing her again?”

Ben raises an eyebrow in question. 

Caleb cuts straight to it. “Is she the lucky lady that have the honor of taking your virtue?”

Ben sputters on his ale. Caleb thumps him hard on the back. 

“Caleb.”

“She seemed willing.”

“Caleb.” 

“She's very pretty. You could do worse. You two looked good together.” 

“I don't think that'll be happening.”

“Why the hell not? Do you know how many men in the room would trade places with you?”

“Would you?”

They lock eyes. Caleb moves his leg against Ben's. No one is paying attention to them. 

“I'm happy here.” 

He’s moving back again, resting his elbows on the table, moving his leg away, and scanning the room. 

They talk about their childhood. 

When they were six and Abe jumped off the dock and Caleb had to jump in and rescue him and then Anna had to jump in and rescue both of them. Ben was on the shore, torn between running for help and staying and laughing until his sides hurt. 

When they were ten and sat around listening to Ben’s father tell war stories. It seemed so exciting then. Full of adventure and danger. At the time they ignored Reverend Tallmadge's about the horrors of it all, what taking another life can do to you. 

Someday, after this, if they make it out of this, they’ll stress that to their own children. 

Chasing each other in Caleb’s uncles apple orchard.

Stuffing themselves full of the pies Ben’s mother would make until they felt they would be sick. 

Catching Anna and Abe kissing for the first time and acting like it was the most revolting thing they’d ever seen. They were children, they didn’t know.

They don’t talk about how Abe and Anna (and now Robert) risk their lives everyday for them and the cause. 

Or the men they’ve killed- even if it was justified.

Or Lucas Brewster.

When Ben’s mother died. 

When both of Caleb’s parents passed. Caleb was in Greenland or Iceland or some small port off the coast of Canada when he got the letter. Ben had to write it. Lucas’ hands hadn’t been steady in years. It was a bad flu, took the lives of seven others in town. Ben came home from his first year at Yale for the funeral. Caleb didn’t make it back on time. He was a month late but Ben stood next to him at their graves, close enough that the backs of their hands were touching. It was all he could offer but he wanted to give more. 

How Ben felt when he stumbled upon Caleb kissing Elizabeth Hill. He was fifteen at the time and he knew enough. Elizabeth was shipped off to London with her mother at the first hint of conflict between the colonies and Britain. Caleb pretended he wasn’t sad to see her go and Ben didn’t have to pretend at all.

The music dies away and people begin to file out, alone or paired up. 

“Are you ready to go?” Ben asks, slurring just enough to give him away. 

Caleb nods and tries to steady himself against the table before he follows Ben towards the stairs.

“Heading to bed alone?” Richards has the redhead wrapped around him. “Major, Lieutenant, do you not understand the meaning of leave?” He dissolves into laughter. “You were doing so well.”

“Last chance, Ben.”

“I’m ready to go.”

“Who knows when you’ll get another chance,” Richards calls after them.

The walk to their rooms is quiet. There’s muffled laughter behind doors and moans coming from a few. Ben slides his eyes towards Caleb, the blush on his cheeks just barely visible in the low light.

It takes forever to get to Ben’s door. They stumbled up the stairs and down the hall, bumping into each other, bouncing off then coming back needing the contact.

Caleb doesn't know why he's surprised when Ben gets his door open, pulls him inside, and kisses him against it. 

This has been stirring between them.

He guesses he thought it would have to be up to him to make the first move. 

Ben has a reckless streak in him, you don't join a revolution without it, but he's so careful around Caleb. He makes sure their looks don't linger too long. Their embraces are brief and can always be written off as friendly. He dances all night with different women. 

Ben has him pinned against the door, lips moving frantically and hands pulling at Caleb's shirt. 

“Hey, hey,” Caleb murmurs against his hair. Ben's moved his mouth down Caleb's neck. It's distracting. Caleb tips his head back against the door. “Hey,” He holds onto Ben's side and puts some space between them. “I’m not your pretty dance partner.”

Ben looks confused. “You’re my closest friend. You’re the only one I trust. You’re all I have.”

That’s not true. Ben has so much. He could’ve had any of those ladies. He could be doing all of this with them.

“I want you here, Caleb, I always have.”

That’s all Caleb needs to hear. He kisses him again and back him up towards the bed. It’s pillow soft beneath his knees when he straddles his hips and pins Ben’s wrist above his head. 

They kiss everywhere. Constantly.

Caleb says Ben’s name over and over again against the side of his neck.

Ben tells Caleb he loves him against his shoulder. 

*****

“Do you remember now?”

Ben shakes his head and tries. He wants to but it’s so fuzzy. He can’t decipher between what actually happened and what he’s been wanting to happen. 

“It’s all right if you don’t,” Caleb rests a warm, calloused hand on the side of Ben’s face. “It’s okay, nothing has to change.”

Ben shakes his head as Caleb’s hand slips down to his neck. 

“I kissed you?”

Caleb hums.

“I always thought it would be the other way around.”

Caleb laughs. It rumbles across the distance between them. 

“Yeah, me too.”

“I wish I remembered more. I shouldn’t have drank so much. Don’t let me drink so much next time.”

“Next time?”

“You’re still here,” Ben reaches out towards him, feeling bold in the early light. He rolls onto his back and drags Caleb over on top of him. “We have three more days. Make sure I remember it this time.”


End file.
